


above expectations

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: Rumor has it that Hilda never sweat a drop in her life. And she intended to keep it that way. That was, until someone else's plans got in the way.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: Hilclaude Week 2020





	above expectations

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, they literally just talk for the entirety of this fic. who’s narrative? i don’t know her. all i know is dialogue. 
> 
> anyway this was originally written for the [fódlan bake off](https://twitter.com/TGFodlanBakeoff) since the themes basically screamed hilclaude to me so of course i had to write hilclaude. i'm kinda late on that so boohoo but then guess what it’s also [hilclaude week](https://twitter.com/hilclaudeweek), so i’m still winning.

Hilda looks up from her nails when she sees him stop in front of her, giving him a curt smile. She crosses her legs and leans over the table, cradling her chin in a propped arm.

“Claude von Riegan, I take it,” she declares.

He flashes a smile at his name. “The very one.”

She takes another look. Warm brown skin and bright green eyes, a mess of dark hair atop his head and a single beaded braid trailing down from his right temple. He wears the Academy’s black uniform comfortably — at worst, his sleeves are loose, exaggerated wrinkles at the elbows from constant rolling up, and his pants are baggy, shapeless outside of being tucked into his boots. She watches him sit down, taking the seat directly across from her, setting his plate neatly in front of him.

“You aren’t what I expected,” she says, rather bluntly, but she thinks he looks like someone that doesn’t mind a direct conversation.

His right eyebrow arches up. “Yeah?” he asks. “What did you expect then?”

She shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know,” she answers quickly.

She doesn’t actually know how to properly express the fact that all she’s heard about the incoming leader of the Leicester Alliance are whispered rumors and muttered scorn. Everyone she knew didn’t seem to trust the recently declared Riegan heir apparent, and perhaps because of that she expected someone that looked a little more… villainous.

Not someone that looked rather… _charming_ , to say the least.

“I just expected maybe someone that would ask to sit next to me rather than just invite himself over.”

His smile doesn’t dissipate. “You must be Hilda Goneril,” he simply replies.

“The very one,” she affirms. “How’d you tell?”

“The Gonerils are well known for their pink heads across the Alliance.” And after a brief pause, he adds, “Can’t mistake it on the battlefield.”

“Ah, then I’m sure you’ve heard about my brother,” she says.

“Holst Goneril? Who hasn’t? His name is well known even beyond Fódlan’s boundaries.”

She waves her hand at him. “Oh, I’m sure everyone knows all about him. Especially those Almyrans.”

Claude only smiles, tilting his head to the side curiously. After moment, he comments, “You know, I have to say that you’re not exactly what I expected either.”

“Really?” she asks. “What did you expect then? Something more like my brother?”

“Actually, no,” he corrects. “I heard that you’re nothing like your brother.” She sees him give her a onceover. “I just didn’t expect you to be so… _cute_.”

She snorts. “If you’re trying to be charming, it’s not working,” she says. It’s half a lie, but Hilda already experienced plenty of gracious flattery for the day, and she’s a little tired of it. “I’ve seen many of womanizers here, and we’ve barely gotten through the first day. Don’t tell me that the head of my very own house is one of them, too.” Setting the point aside, she leans in, weaving her fingers together. “But do tell me, what _have_ you heard about me before coming to the Academy?”

“Oh, wouldn’t _you_ like to know?”

“Don’t act like it’s a big secret. I’m just asking what you know.”

He considers her for a moment. “Let’s make a deal,” he says finally. “I tell you what I’ve heard about you, and you tell me what you’ve heard about me.” He leans into the table, looking at her intently, then says in a lowered voice, “Rumor for rumor.”

Hilda’s first instinct is to refuse, and she opens her mouth to answer as such, but for whatever reason, she pauses and decides to play along. What’s the harm, after all? The worst is that she hears something she’d have preferred not to know, but something tells her that Claude von Riegan knows how to tell a white lie.

“Deal,” and so she replies. But before he says another word, she points her fork at him. “But you’ll have to start first.”

He grins, unintimidated by the four metal tines of her fork. “Alright,” he says, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. He sucks on his teeth and his eyes flash to a corner of the room before returning to her. “Rumor has it…” he starts, a wry smile stretching over his lips. “Rumor has it that you have never sweat a drop in your life.”

His smile must be infectious, because despite her “laziness” being a sore subject — or at least for every single time her brother brings it up — she feels the corner of her lips tug upwards.

“It’s true,” she affirms proudly. “Not a single drop of sweat.”

He tilts his head curiously. “Not even one?”

“Not even one,” she assures. “I am phenomenally skilled at delegation.”

“A quality of a good leader,” he replies.

“You would know,” she says, pointing back at him. “After all, _you_ _’re_ the big head here, Mr. Leader Man.”

His eyes brighten at the nickname. “Mr. Leader Man?” he repeats. “Who says I’m the leader of the Golden Deer?”

“Well, you _are_ the next in line for the Leicester Alliance,” she tells him. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Edelgard von Hresvelg and Dimitri Blaiddyd also happen to be here at the Academy, too. So far, it looks like the rest of their house has made them the leaders of their houses, so it would only make sense for you to be the de factor leader of our house.”

He considers for a moment. “I guess I can step forward for that role then,” he says, putting his hands behind his head and stretching his legs out under the table. “Maybe try to get something done while I’m at it.”

“You got big plans then?”

He frowns, shrugging. “I don’t know if I’d say I have big plans. I just want to make the world a little better, you know.”

“Aren’t we all?” she replies, coyishly. “I personally think everyone would be better off if they just took a chill pill. Ambitions makes everyone do things they don’t want to do, and it keeps people from just living their best life. People should really stop working so hard.”

Claude shifts in his seat, glancing back at her. “Well, some people work to make ends meet, right?” he counters. “Not everyone has the luxury to just sit back and relax.”

She blinks. Okay, maybe her words didn’t quite come out right. “That’s true,” she agrees quickly. “But even then so, how good the world is is just a matter of perspective, isn’t it? If everyone’s looking at the bad side of things, _of course_ the world seems like a terrible place.”

He offers her a small smile. “It _is_ a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” he replies.

Hilda doesn’t really know what to add to that, but Claude quickly recovers the conversation afterward, sitting forward again.

“You never returned me a rumor,” he reminds her. She must look confused because he clarifies right afterward. “Rumor for rumor? Remember? Or unless you were never actually planning for a trade in the first place.”

“Ah, yes,” she replies, nodding before giving him a corrective look. “And I would _never_ stand for unfair deal. Let’s be clear about that — it’s why people are so eager to help me out. It’s part of being good at delegating.”

“Then we’re on the same page there,” he agrees. “Unfairness is terrible in all forms.”

“Right,” she says, then rubs her chin in one hand for a moment to think. “Well then, as for rumors I’ve heard for you…” she stalls, trying to think of something not-so-word-for-word about what she’s _actually_ heard. “For you…” she tries again, but finds herself unable to make up something on the spot.

She glances at him, and he looks back at her patiently. She chews on the inside of her cheek, then finally takes a breath.

“Honestly, actually, I’ve heard lots of mean things being said about you… and your mom,” she admits, downcast. She takes another heavy breath. “A-And they’re not really things I want to repeat, and I don’t think they’re true at all,” she adds. “It’s all just talk.”

She swallows and looks back up at him. He doesn’t offer any expression on his face, but his eyes have certainly dulled.

“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I shouldn’t have really brought it up in the first place, I guess.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, looking off to the distance. “No, it’s fine. My family didn’t really leave the Alliance in good shape, and I didn’t come along until much later.” His eyes return to hers. “I’d understand if people don’t have great things to say about me.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure that doesn’t feel good to know that either,” she says. “Guess there’s never any politics without drama, and there’s certainly a lot of that in the Alliance. I don’t know any of the houses that actually get along.”

“So much for the Alliance being an alliance, huh?” Claude says. “Even here at the Academy as students, we aren’t organized. The other houses already have everything figured out, and from what it looks like, the other house leaders already have the loyalty of their house. They even came in ready with their own retainers!” He smiles. “Guess I have a bit of work to do, don’t I?” Here, his smile grows wider and he locks eyes with her. “You know, as your so-called _Leader Man_ of the house.”

Hilda holds his gaze for a little while longer, attempting to read his eyes. It’s quite difficult however. Even while lighthearted, his eyes are glassy without a single crack, and the longer she tries, the hotter her cheeks start to feel. She looks away, uncrossing and recrossing her legs and stabbing a chunk of meat with her fork.

“You know what,” she offers then. “I’ll be your retainer.” And she pops the piece of meat into her mouth to keep herself from saying anything more.

“What?” he asks, in exaggerated disbelief. “You’d give me that much devotion after just meeting me for a few minutes?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please,” she replies. “I'm just helping you out. It's not like I'm dedicating my _life_ to you or anything."

“Well, I greatly appreciate it,” he tells her sincerely.

A beat.

She narrows her eyes, snapping back to him. “You planned this, didn’t you?” she accuses him.

He gives her a boyish grin. “What are you talking about? I didn’t plan for anything.”

“You purposefully mentioned how the other house leader had retainers and then just waited for me to make the offer.”

"No, no, I swear I didn't," he insists, chuckling. “I mean, sure, so I _did_ plan to introduce myself to you — I’m talking to as many Deers as possible so that we could get people on the same page but I certainly didn’t _expect_ you to be my right-hand woman. Now _that_ ,” he emphasizes with a pointed finger to the surface of the table. “ _That_ was just something that happened by chance.”

“Chance or not, you certainly tilted the odds in your favor,” she argues. “Although that’s nice that you didn’t expect me to rally behind you. I figured at some point the incoming von Riegan head would try to recruit me for that. You know, as a Goneril and all.”

“You still ended up becoming my retainer.”

“Yeah, but I’m doing this by _choice_ ,” she says.

He raises an eyebrow. “You _choose_ work on my behalf?”

“Yeah, but don’t make me work too hard,” she threatens. “If I sweat a drop, I’ll kill you.”

“Deal,” he replies. “I’m sure you’ll be great at delegating tasks away.”

“Indeed,” she says. “The plan is to be done with the Academy without raising a single finger.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “What about after Academy?”

“I might consider moving my pinky finger.”

He laughs. “And will you still stick around me even after?”

“Don’t push it.”

**Author's Note:**

> you know where to [find me](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


End file.
